Bloody Entertainment
by Eileniessa
Summary: Collection of short stories set in on the world of The Witcher (books and video games, and the Netflix series) for a Bad-Things-Happen-Bingo card. See the title page for more information and chapter details.
1. Title Page

**Disclaimer**: This is a work of fan fiction using characters from the books by Andrzej Sapkowski, the game series by CD Projekt Red and the TV series by Netflix. I do not claim ownership to any of these characters and have written this fan fiction for entertainment, not financial gain.

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**Index**

Tainted: Yennefer – Poison/Venom. World of The Witcher books and video games. Characters: Yennefer and Geralt.

Autopsy: Geralt – Strapped to an operating table. World of The Witcher Netflix show. Characters: Geralt, Renfri, and Stregobor.

Pawn: Yennefer – Knife to the throat. World of The Witcher Netflix show. Characters: Yennefer, Tissaia, and Fringilla.

Scars: Yennefer – Hiding an injury. World of The Witcher Netflix show. Characters: Yennefer.

Crimson Blossom: Yennefer – Bleeding through the bandages. World of The Witcher Netflix. Characters: Tissaia and Yennefer.

Hurting to Heal: Tissaia and Yennefer – Harmful healing. World of The Witcher Netflix. Characters: Tissaia and Yennefer.

Cursed Spine: Yennefer – Chronic Pain. World of The Witcher Netflix. Characters: Yennefer, Tissaia and Sabrina.

A Night to Remember: Geralt - Bleeding through the bandages. Word of The Witcher books and games: Characters: Geralt and Orianna.

Don't Go: Tissaia and Yennefer - Poison/Venom. World of The Witcher Netflix. Characters: Tissaia and Yennefer.

Come Back: Tissaia and Yennefer - 'I know you're in there somewhere. Fight!". World of The Witcher Netflix. Characters: Tissaia, Yennefer, and Triss.

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**Information**

This is a collection of short stories based on my Bad-Things-Happen-Bingo card. The aim is to get a row crossed out and then to complete each prompt.

The stories take place either in the world of the Witcher depicted by the video games and the books, or in the world of the Witcher depicted by the Netflix TV series.

If you'd like to submit a prompt message me on Tumblr or Twitter (Eileniessa). Check my bio for a link to the card or scroll down my writing blog on Tumblr - Eileniessa Creative.

If you're interested in more of my stories, I recommend following my here, on Twitter or on Tumblr.


	2. Tainted

**Warning**: Major spoilers for the Witcher III, Blood and Wine DLC.

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It was dark by the time Geralt arrived in Corvo Bianco, and Toussaint's unfamiliar stars lit his way as the witcher tended to his horse in the stables.

He hadn't meant to stay out so late, but he'd gotten distracted on his way back from town. Matilda and Liam had offered him a taste of their first batch of 'White Wolf', named in his honour, and it didn't feel right to refuse a chance to taste himself. With several wine caskets cracked open, they'd passed the time talking about the trade, which Geralt begrudgingly admitted he needed to learn more about considering his and Yennefer's prospects for their own vineyard. Then, he'd ended up taking a stroll around their vineyards to clear his head and to check no other infestations had cropped up. They hadn't – he'd done a very thorough job.

When he was satisfied that Roach had everything she needed, Geralt made his way to the main house. There was a dull glow coming from the small window in his and Yennefer's bedroom, and from beneath the small crack under the front door. He wasn't surprised. It wasn't unusual for Yennefer to be up late; she'd always preferred to spend much of her morning in bed and to enjoy the peace and quiet of an empty evening.

As he looked through the small window, wondering what novel or tome Yennefer had her head buried in tonight, he saw a shadow pass fleetingly across glass. When he pushed open the front door, he saw that the door to their room was ajar and he could hear laboured breathing, muffled sounds and something else coming from inside. He could smell blood too.

With his silver sword raised, Geralt stepped sideways into the bedroom and cast a long shadow across the room and upon the face of a woman. Red hair held up in a plaited bun and with a band of woven black thread around her head, he recognized Orianna at once, even while her face was buried in the sorceress' neck.

She was straddling Yennefer, who was struggling under her, and had her arms pinned by her head When he came in, Orianna looked up and smiled at Geralt with bloodied fangs and bright, ecstatic eyes. There was blood smeared across her chin and pooling on her neck. Her skin, which had a greyish quality, was pulled tightly across her face making her veins pop. Geralt noticed, with disgust, that Orianna looked glad to see him.

Quickly, Geralt made the sign for aard but it wasn't enough to knock Orianna off the bed. Stunned, the vampire hunkered down so that she was practically lying on top of the sorceress. Blood dripped off the vampire's chin and onto Yennefer's shirt as she brought her fangs close to the woman's neck. For a while, they stared at each other, neither one willing to make the first move in this stalemate.

Then, there was a flash of purple and Orianna recoiled from Yennefer as the blast of magic burnt her face. Geralt cast aard again and though the sign was weaker than before, it succeeded in knocking Orianna off the bed. Sword in one hand, Geralt lunged for Yennefer and pulled her to the other side of the bed as Orianna tried to grab at her. He picked Yennefer up and put her on her feet, then pushed the sorceress through the doorway and onto the floor as Orianna sprang towards them.

Geralt was knocked backwards and into the dresser, and it cracked and splintered under his weight and the force of the blow. Pushing himself up, he tried to slash the vampire's feet but Orianna had already dashed out into the hallway. She wasn't interested in him at all which made the stakes of his hunt higher than they had ever been before.

From the doorway, Geralt saw Yennefer scrambling backwards across the floor with one arm raised in front of her. Orianna was stalking after her, shielding her face as she pushed against the sorceress' weakened magic. With her back turned to him, the witcher tried to thrust his sword through Orianna's chest, but she sidestepped it, knocking the sword to the floor and throwing him over the dining table and across the room. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, and when he hit the stairs, the blow was cushioned. Yennefer had shielded him.

When Geralt had gotten up and moved around the table, Orianna had Yennefer pinned to the wall by her throat. With her fangs bared, Orianna was still smiling.

"Let's dispense of swords and magic, Geralt. I want to talk," she said calmly. "Do I have your attention?"

Her eyes were on him, now that she had Yennefer where she needed, and they both knew how easy it would be for the vampire to squeeze the life out of her if she wanted to.

"What do you want, Orianna?"

"I'm sad, Geralt. And lonely too." Without looking at her, Orianna drew the back of a talon across Yennefer's cheek. "It's not fair that you have company here while I'm all alone."

"Is this about Detlaff?"

"Yes, and Regis too."

"Let Yen go."

"No."

Yennefer, who was already pale from all the blood Orianna had drunk, could barely breathe. She was holding Orianna's arm loosely and seemed about ready to pass out, though the look on her face was as fierce.

Orianna's grip tightened. "Look at me when I'm talking, witcher. She's not going anywhere."

Geralt did as she asked, he didn't have a choice. Orianna had the upper hand, and she was relishing every moment of it. As things were, Geralt couldn't see any way out but to listen and hope that Yennefer was better to Orianna alive than dead.

"Do you know, Geralt, that it's so rare these days to come across other higher vampires with whom you can find companionship. I had that with Regis and Detlaff and considered myself lucky and better off for it. I had everything I could ever want or need in Toussaint. But now, Detlaff-Detlaff is dead and Regis had to leave, and if I ever saw him again, I'd have to kill him for what he did, naturally."

"Yea, I get it. I pissed you off, ruined your life, all that shit. So why don't you come here, and we can settle this. Kill me, if you can."

Orianna laughed. "But that would be so crude, Geralt. No, I think I'll take her instead, it seems more fitting, don't you think? Poetic justice."

Geralt knew he'd never make it in time. He ran at Orianna without a sword and with no endurance left for signs as she turned her head and fangs towards Yennefer. The sorceress looked helpless, pinned against the wall with her eyes almost in the back of her head. It must have taken Orianna by surprise, then, when Yennefer brought a hand to her face and pushed a silver ring into her left eye.

She let go at once and Yennefer crumbled to the floor. Smoke poured out of Orianna's damaged eye and her talons seemed to grow with her fury. Geralt tackled her to the floor and tried to stab her in the other eye with the knife he used to cut off trophies, but she caught it as he plunged it towards her face. Holding off the attack with one hand, she tried to claw at his throat with the other, her talons scratching the surface of his skin.

Struggling on the floor with Orianna, Geralt looked for Yennefer. She was already back on her feet, and he called for her to go, to run, but she didn't move towards the door. He wasn't sure what she was doing until he saw his sword come crashing down on Orianna's neck. It wasn't a clean blow and by the time Yennefer had completely severed the vampire's head from her body, she had already stopped moving.

Orianna's blood pooled on the floor and swam around Geralt's sword as it lay by her head. He was covered in it too, as was Yennefer, but the blood was mostly her own. She was leaning her weight against the edge of the table and had her head down. He could see her chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. She looked like shit. Her face was pale and bloody, and her eyes were half-closed, but she was alive and when he pulled the matted hair away from her face, he saw two deep holes in her neck which were still oozing blood.

Geralt wasn't sure what to say, so he said nothing and stood there with his hand in Yennefer's hair watching her as she caught her breath. He'd never been so close to losing her before, and he would have if she were any other women; if she hadn't been so damn fierce and stubborn. She'd saved herself, saved herself from his mistake. He should never have sat around at Corvo Bianco knowing that Orianna was still out there. It had been a foolish and selfish mistake that almost got Yennefer killed.

She was watching him now, but Geralt couldn't meet her gaze. He felt that maybe he should apologize, but he'd never been very good at that in the past. Not when it came to her.

"Yen," he started "I-"

"Hush, Geralt. I don't want to hear it, not now. Just-just hold me. Hold me until I fall asleep, I can feel it coming."

"I won't let go, Yen. I love you."

Geralt sat with Yennefer on the table, her weight pressed comfortingly against his side, until she passed out in his arms. He treated her wounds and washed her skin and hair before leaving her to rest in the spare bedroom.

The majordomo came in to check on them while some of the vineyard workers, who had been woken up by the noise, took away the body and burned it just outside Corvo Bianco's walls. In the morning, he'd ask for the ashes to be collected, so that he could bury Orianna in an urn deep beneath the mountains. By the time she'd regenerated and clawed her way out, he and Yennefer would be long dead and no vampire would ever find Orianna to speed up her return.

He decided to send for a physician in the morning and to let the Duchess know what had happened. Geralt wanted to tell her that he planned to set out on the path again when Yennefer was better. He needed to know if Detlaff or Regis, or Orianna now, had any other vampiric friends whose life he needed to end. When that was done, and only then, did he feel he'd be able to come back home.

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The fire had only just burned out when Yennefer awoke.

Geralt had been watching it through the window, brooding, when he heard Yennefer's breath catch in her throat. He saw her eyes open wide, then she leaned over the side of the bed and vomited onto the floor.

She looked dazed and had her arms wrapped around her stomach. Geralt had to wipe her mouth with the washcloth he'd used earlier because she wouldn't take it from him. When he helped her lie back down, Yennefer curled in on herself. Her face was warm under his fingers and she was shaking all over and struggling to breathe. Geralt could see she was in pain, but he didn't know why, and Yennefer was too out of it to tell him what was wrong.

With a knife, Geralt cut off Yennefer's bandages, held her hair to keep it from getting in the wound, and inspected the bite. Like pieces of charred flesh, the skin around the two holes in Yennefer's neck was dry and blackened, and dark veins were pulsating around the wound. The dressing was coated in blood that was so thick and dark it almost wasn't red anymore, but black.

He dropped the dirty bandages on the bedside table when Yennefer started to fit. It lasted for several minutes and by the end, the sheets were smeared with blood and Yennefer was unconscious again. He rolled her onto her side and redressed her neck, then he sat back down and watched her breathing fitfully in her unconsciousness.

Orianna has never intended to kill, not tonight. Instead, she'd bitten Yennefer with venomous fangs. What with and how, he didn't know, but he would fix it. It couldn't be incurable; nothing was, not if he kept on looking.

Two apothecaries, a travelling barber-surgeon and three physicians, including the gentleman who served the Duchess, all saw to Yennefer over the next two days, but none of them could do anything for her except help to alleviate the pain. Even Triss, who had teleported in from Kovir the moment she'd received Geralt's letter about what had happened, couldn't offer any spells or remedies. Geralt had tried to contact Ciri too, to let her know what was going on, but she was out travelling the Nilfgaardian empire and he doubted anyone would be in a hurry to pass a letter onto her from a witcher. Lambert, who Triss had contacted through Keria, didn't know anything either and neither he nor Geralt knew where Eskel was.

Each day Yennefer's condition worsened. She was dry heaving, coughing up blood and fitting while in a constant state of agony curled up on the bed. The only time she got any rest was when she was unconscious and whenever she was awake, Yennefer was usually dazed and confused. She'd barely spoken a word since the attack and hadn't taken more than a few bites of food. The sickly veins around the bite on her neck had crept across her shoulder, chest and up her neck until they were touching the tip of her jaw and chin.

Geralt had looked for answers in the tomes Regis had left behind in his crypt, but there was nothing there. Nor could Triss or Syanna find anything of use in Toussaint's library and its old elvish tomes. None of them knew where to turn.

A week came and went without any promising news, and nothing they did could stop the spread of the poison. Yennefer's body was quickly weakening, and the dark veins grew and grew, until there was nowhere else for them to go.

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Bad-Things-Happen-Bingo Prompt from Feelfreeimdone on Tumblr: poison/venom for Yennefer.

Looks whose back. I've been raised from the dead by Netflix. Hope you enjoyed this. I know its been a long time but there's more to come. I'm currently working on a Netflix series story coming to you in January (hopefully).

For more information about this collection and what Bad-Things-Happen-Bingo is, check the title page.


	3. Autopsy

**Warnings**: Spoilers for 'The Witcher' Netflix show, series 1 episode 1.

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In the distance, he heard a woman's laugh, faint and muffled. He opened his eyes and the room lurched making him feel sick. Closing them again, Geralt gritted his teeth as a headache grew in his skull.

He heard the woman again. She sounded closer than before, and he could hear other women too. They were talking and laughing around him with happy and musical voices, chirping like songbirds. Geralt's shoulders tensed. Something wasn't right.

Geralt squinted into the light until his eyes adjusted to the brightness. He was in a garden bursting with colour and fragrance. The newly sprung flowers and glossy fruit were dazzling in the sunlight that poured over the top of the roofless tower's high stone walls. In the morning summer light, naked women with curved figures watered the plants, picked and ate fruit from the trees, and lounged in the heat. Some of them were watching him and he saw that they were beautiful, that they were perfect, and it unnerved him. Like the garden and the clear blue sky, the women were covered in painted splendour, their faces just a bit too symmetrical and their skin a little too untouched. He knew they weren't real because they were flawless, and nature didn't have such designs.

Ignoring the illusions, and with his head a little bit clearer and his body less numb, Geralt stretched. He wiggled his fingers and cracked his neck, but when he tried to roll his shoulders, he found that he could barely move. The witcher looked down and saw thick bands of metal shackling his ankles, wrists and chest to a piece of wood that was holding him upright at a slight angle. As more sensation returned to his body, he felt something pricking his skin where the metal was touching him. It was dimeritium. Geralt moved and flexed his arms to test the restraints. The table shook, but the metal bands did not loosen.

"Ah, witcher, your timing could not be more perfect. I'm almost ready to begin the autopsy."

Geralt's nails almost pierced the calloused skin on his palm as he balled his hands into fists and glowered at Stregobor. The magician was standing opposite him, fingering several sharp metal instruments laid out on a tray. On an operating table beside Stregobor was Renfri's naked body.

The table that Geralt was bound to rattled as he moved around in his restraints trying to force his way out. He banged against the wood until sweat was dripping off his face, but the metal bonds held firm. Geralt looked up and saw Stregobor standing over Renfri's body, painting black lines and marks on her skin. He did not turn around as Geralt growled:

"I will make you pay for this, Stregobor, even if I have to follow you to the edge of the world."

"I believe you, witcher," he replied, "and I take your threat very seriously, just as I have taken the threat Renfri posed seriously. I know you don't believe what I have told you about the curse of the black sun and Lilit's return, but you will. I shall show you."

The magician put down his paint and eyed up the surgical tools.

"You're a fool, Stregobor!" Geralt shouted. "Don't you see what you've done? It was you and your supporters who fulfilled the prophecy. Renfri was not one of Lilit's woman, none of the innocent children that you killed were. She was a tortured soul that inflicted pain and suffering on others because of the way you treated her and the other women born under the black sun. It was a self-fulfilling prophecy, Stregobor, but you're too self-righteous to see that."

The magician selected a knife from the table and walked up to Geralt. Getting right up in his face, he pressed the tip of the blade into the bound man's stomach.

"It is not I who is a blind fool, witcher," said Stregobor, looking Geralt straight in the eye as he coated his knife with the man's blood. "When I cut open Renfri's body and show you her mutations, you'll see that I was right. These women are abominations, just like you, and when I've finished with her, I shall compare her mutations with yours. I've always wanted to autopsy a witcher, and to be able to compare you to a child of the black sun will undoubtedly result in the acquisition of some extraordinary knowledge."

"Fuck you, Stregobor! Enjoy your findings while you can, they will be the death of you."

Stregobor withdrew the knife from Geralt's stomach and walked over to Renfri. "An interesting prediction," he said, cleaning the blade, "but it doesn't rhyme and all good prophecy's rhyme. Perhaps it will come to you while you watch me work, I have ensured that you have a good view."

Blood dripped off the edges of Renfri's operating table as Stregobor cut open her torso and pulled her apart. He placed her organs and pieces of tissue in labelled jars while the illusionary women watched curiously. When he had finished, he left Renfri's body uncovered on the table and talked aloud as he made some preliminary notes and recordings.

Geralt watched the whole procedure. It was his fault that she was there and so he wouldn't turn away. He owed her the guilt that he felt, and the regret that he had not taken his own advice and walked away. This was not a choice he should have made.

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Bad-Things-Happen-Bingo Prompt for Anonymous on Tumblr: strapped to an operating table for Geralt, world of the Netflix show.

For more information about this collection, what Bad-Things-Happens-Bingo is, and how to submit a prompt, check the title page.

If you have enjoyed this piece of work, please consider leaving a comment.


	4. Pawn

**Warnings**: Spoilers for 'The Witcher' Netflix show, series 1, episode 3, 7 and 8.

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The smell of smoke and charred flesh filled her nostrils and settled on her tongue as she took a deep breath. Yennefer choked on the decay and screwed up her eyes as she coughed, her dry throat seizing up in pain. The ground was warm against her cheek, as though it had been soaking up the heat of the sun. But the world was dark, and no rays of light pierced her eyelids as she lay on the floor taking small, shallow breaths, too weak to move. She tried to open her eyes, but it was too painful. They were dry and sensitive because of all the heat she had expended, and her vision blurred as they began to water. A shiver ran down Yennefer's spine and her muscles ached as she shook. She was freezing and her cold breath tickled the back of her hand even as the warmth of the earth burnt it.

Yennefer clenched her stomach as another shudder made her body spasm painfully. She tried to focus her attention on the heat pressing against her side, willing it back into her body, but it would not come. Though the air was warm and heavy, and the ground heated like the stones of a forge, the warmth failed to touch her body and so it stayed sleeping. Yennefer tried to join it, but the aching of her muscles and the pounding in her head fought off the darkness that tried to claim her. So, she lay awake on the ground, waiting and listening, until she heard a sound.

Someone was walking towards her. After a few moments, she heard them stop beside her, the fabric of their clothes ruffling as they lowered themselves to the ground, a brush of air stroking the back of Yennefer's neck. A hand lightly traced her cheekbone and she sensed someone press against her thoughts as they let their presence flow into her. It felt familiar to her, but distantly. She had not known it in a long time, and it was different now; it was stronger, darker, and filled with hatred. Hatred for her.

"Still alive, Vengerberg," Fringilla whispered as her fingers lingered on Yennefer's face, caressing her skin.

Her tone was light and friendly, it was the voice Yennefer remembered from Aretuza and the girl that they had lost to the South, but Fringilla's presence against Yennefer's mind was sharp and fierce. Yennefer tried to erect a border between them, to force the other mage away from her thoughts, but Fringilla only pushed back harder.

"Good," she continued, "killing you will be my pleasure."

Yennefer's body protested as rough hands dug into her shoulders and rolled her onto her back, and she bit back a cry of pain, clenching her jaw stubbornly. She felt the weight of Fringilla's body press against her stomach as she straddled her. Then, she wrapped her fingers tightly around Yennefer's wrists and pulled her hands into her lap, slapping Yennefer hard across the face when she tried to resist her. Fresh blood dripped from Yennefer's nose and her head spun as Fringilla bound her wrists together and pinned them to the ground above her head. The coarse rope cut into her inflamed skin, making her wrists throb almost as painfully as her head.

"Look at me, Vengerberg, I want to see the life drain from your eyes as when I kill you."

Fringilla ran one of her fingers gently under Yennefer's left eye from her nose to the side of her face. When she reached the wound by the corner of Yennefer's eye, she pressed her fingertip down and dug her nail slightly into the fresh scab. Yennefer hissed and jerked her head to the side, pulling away from Fringilla's hand which dropped down to her chin, gripping it between two gloved fingers. Hot breath tickled the side of Yennefer's face as Fringilla leant forwards and whispered into her ear:

"Open your eyes. Edrych arnaf."

Tears streamed down the side of Yennefer's face as her eyes stung, sharp needles of pain stabbing her relentlessly while she looked up at the other mage, her imaged blurred. The muscles in Yennefer's face strained as she tried to force her eyes shut, but she only managed to blink. After a few moments her sight cleared, and she could make out Fringilla's features through the pain. There was a small smile on her face that made Yennefer's breath catch her in her throat. When she tried to buck her hips and throw Fringilla off, the other mage laughed.

"Pathetic," Fringilla sneered, her control and calm façade slipping away. She leant forward and pressed most of her weight against Yennefer's wrists, pushing them into the scorched earth which began to burn her exposed skin. "You surprise me, Vengerberg, I always thought you'd go out fighting. That you would die on your own terms, and for your own reasons. But you're just another pig sent for the slaughter. Weak, and defenceless."

Yennefer flinched as she felt Fringilla press a knife against her throat. It pierced her skin slightly, and a few drops of blood dripped down her neck and pooled between her collar bones. She tried to control her breathing as the movement of her windpipe made the blade dig deeper into her skin, but Fringilla had other plans. She forced her presence deep into Yennefer's mind until it was no longer her own, and she drew forth dark images from the furthest reaches of her mind that made Yennefer shake uncontrollably. Her heart racing, Yennefer feels her mind being pulled apart, and she cannot close herself off from the images that she sees. The dagger cuts several thin lines across her neck as Yennefer jerks her head side to side.

"How does it feel, piglet, to die like a pawn?" Fringilla asks, her words echoing inside Yennefer's head. "Don't you see how she's used you, Yennefer. She brought you here to die for a world that you don't believe in, and you let her. Why? Because she asked nicely? Because you wanted to please her? It doesn't matter. Either way, you're still just her scared, useless little pig."

Fringilla pressed the blade harder against her neck, and Yennefer wonders whether Fringilla knows that she can feel her hatred seeping into her thoughts. For a moment, Yennefer feels as though she is watching herself from Fringilla's eyes and she watches the blade dig deeper into her skin. Yennefer smiles, hardly noticing the pain anymore, and then the feeling passes, and Yennefer closed her eyes.

Something warm soaked into the fabric covering her chest and the blade moved away from her throat. Though Fringilla's weight was stilled pressed against her body, Yennefer felt her presence shrink and disappear from her mind. Then, in the distance, she heard a woman's voice. It seemed to call for her. Yennefer opened her eyes.

Blood trickled down Fringilla's mouth as she clutched at the tip of the spear that had impaled her chest. She opened and closed her mouth, gurgling as she tried to breathe and choking on her blood. Fringilla looked away from her captive and over her shoulder as another presence wrapped itself around Yennefer's exposed mind, protecting it. Tissaia knelt beside them and gripped the front of the spear as Fringilla began to slump forward. Yennefer watched as she held the Nilfgaardian's chin and raised her head, looking her in the eye. Then, in a whisper that Yennefer almost doesn't hear, she said:

"Call Yennefer by her name, snake, unlike you she's earned it. After today, because of your failure, nobody in your sacred Empire will remember yours." Tissaia picked up the dagger and held it in front of Fringilla's face before pressing it against her neck. "That's the price of failure for a pawn like you."

With one quick movement, Tissaia slit Fringilla's throat and pushed her body to the floor, regarding her for an instant before turning away. Yennefer saw Fringilla's eyes staring blankly at the Rectoress' back as she discarded her and moved closer to Yennefer. She cut her bounds and cradled Yennefer in her arms as she soothed her neck and helped to dislodge the cold that had filled her body. Tissaia didn't give Fringilla so much as a backwards glance as she drew her last breath, instead, she spoke softly to Yennefer and stroked her hair as she fell asleep.

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Bad-Things-Happen-Bingo Prompt for Anonymous on Tumblr: Knife to the throat for Yennefer, The Witcher Netflix

For more information about this collection, what Bad-Things-Happens-Bingo is, and how to submit a prompt, check the title page. I would love to do more Tissaia and Yennefer Netflix prompts. I enjoyed writing about these characters in my other story 'Losing Control'.

If you have enjoyed this piece of work, please consider leaving a comment.


	5. Scars

**Warnings**: Spoilers for 'The Witcher' Netflix show, series 1, episode 3.

**CAUTION. Viewer Discretion Advised:** This chapter contains mentions of attempted suicide.

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Deep inside the bowels of Aretuza, a woman bathed in the blood of a hunchback. She had been the hunchback, but now she was a sorceress, and she was perfect. Except for her scars.

Yennefer stared at the bloodied water and saw her indistinct reflection look back. She waved her hand and spoke an incantation that made the bathwater clear, and then she looked again. Still, Yennefer hardly recognized herself; only her violet irises had remained the same. Everything else had been imperfect and had needed to be fixed because the prestige of her profession demanded it. The potential of a sorceress was not measured by the knowledge and wisdom that she held, that was the measure of sorcerers and men, but by the charm of her appearance and the sway of her words. That was the strength of women, and so it was her strength too, because, for all the expertise that she had, she was a woman, nonetheless.

Yennefer cleaned her body for a second time, scrubbing every inch of her skin until it was raw. Her bath did not become as dirty as before, but Yennefer was not satisfied. She cleansed the water again and considered heating the bath because cold was making her newly transformed muscles and bones ache, but she decided against it. That incantation always made her feel nauseated. Yennefer scrubbed herself again and when the water stayed clear she decided that she had wasted enough time and got out.

She dried herself with a towel and soothed her sore skin with a scentless cream that was magically imbued to strengthen its healing properties. When Yennefer had finished tending to her hair, having dried it carefully with magic, the red tint had faded from her skin, and her aches and pains had dulled to a faint reminder. Yennefer inspected herself carefully and, convinced that there was no evidence of her transformation left on her body, walked into the adjacent chamber.

The room was well lit, and its circular walls were covered with tall mirrors. There was a vanity on the far side and Yennefer sat herself down before it. Its polished wooden surface was covered in uniformly organized vials, bottle and jars that were labelled with thin, slanting handwriting that she had to squint at to read. She selected a few cosmetics and set to work decorating her face. When she had pencilled her eyebrows, curled her lashes, and painted her lips and her lids, Yennefer took her dress off the limbless bust beside the vanity and put it on. Then, she walked into the middle of the room and cast her eyes across its mirrors. Yennefer saw herself and smiled. She was beautiful. More importantly, she was ready.

Yennefer knew that the ball must have begun, but that worked in her favour. Being on time would not have allowed for the type of entrance that she had in mind. Besides, she did not need the whole night to get what she wanted, what she was owed, only a minute, or a dance. She had trusted Tissaia to get her Aedirn, and the Rectoress had failed her. Yennefer would not fail herself. She would take her place in king Virfuril's court without Tissaia's help; she didn't need it, and she didn't want it.

While Yennefer waited for the ball to progress, she walked around the dressing room and tried out her new body. She had forgotten the last time that she had felt comfortable in her skin. The last time that her body had felt a part of her, and not a cage. It had taken a long time, and it had been painful, but Yennefer finally had the body to match how she felt. Except for the scars.

Her eyes were drawn to them whenever she looked in the mirror. Two straight lines across both wrists. When Yennefer stopped gliding around the room, practising her steps, and fixed her eyes on them her chest tightened, and she pinched her lips together. She would never forgive herself for having been that weak. Tissaia had saved her from her mistake, and Yennefer had taken herself the rest of the way. The Rectoress had never made the journey easy, but she had persevered, and there was nothing left of the hunchback she was before.

Except for the scars. When Yennefer looked at herself, she saw the most powerful mage in the northern kingdoms, but then she saw her scars. They didn't match the figure that she wanted to cut. Yennefer clasped her hands together, covering her slit wrists with her fingers and chanted a spell. Then she took her hands away and rubbed her fingers up and down her skin from her palm to the centre of her forearm. The illusion did not tear. It covered her scars completely.

Yennefer danced around the room a few more times before deciding that it was time to make her entrance. She checked herself out in the mirror and her eyes did not drift as they had before. Everything was as it should be, and the hunchback was truly gone.

* * *

Bad-Things-Happen-Bingo Prompt for Anonymous on Tumblr: Hiding an injury for Yennefer, The Witcher Netflix

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	6. Crimson Blossom

**Warnings**: Spoilers for 'The Witcher' Netflix show, series 1, episode 3.

* * *

Tissaia reached out with her mind and touched the edge of her apprentices' minds while she walked through their dormitory. She could delve deeper if she wanted, but her presence did not need to be intrusive for her to sense whether they were feeling well and if they were sleeping, and she disliked peering into the minds of those who did not have a chance to resist her. It was a cruelty that had often been inflicted upon her by the Rectoress who had trained her, and even after she had ascended, her mentor had never relinquished an opportunity to test her mental defences. On many occasions, she had been laid bare before her Rectoress after the woman had torn through all her carefully constructed barriers, and despite the time that had passed since then, the thought of being read and seen for what she was made her breath catch in her throat.

Her Rectoress had tested her for centuries until she had been able to withstand her intrusions and use the connection that her assailant had established to access their mind and force her presence upon it until their thoughts were laid bare. That was the day that Tissaia had succeeded her as Rectoress, and the day that she had promised herself that she would not test her students the same way. Tissaia learned other ways to help her students strengthen their defences, and while she knew that they were not as effective she accepted them because they were less cruel, and because though was not certain that the price she had paid for her strength had been worth it.

When Tissaia had finished checking on her new students she started towards her quarters. Halfway up the stairs Tissaia stopped and placed her hand against the wall. She had felt something. Someone was trying to open a portal into Aretuza. Tissaia focused her mind and let her presence spread outwards and across the school. After a few seconds, she felt the spot where the magic was concentrated, and she recognized the sense of it; Yennefer. Tissaia clutched the pendant hanging at her chest and reached for the ward surrounding Aretuza. In her mind's eye, she pulled at its threads and adjusted the ward to allow the caster to enter, but redirected their portal to her chambers. When she felt the portal open and close, she set the ward back in place and spent a few moments checking that she had put all the threads back where they should be. Satisfied, Tissaia continued climbing the stairs.

She wondered what the young woman wanted and why she had tried to open a portal when Yennefer knew that it was prohibited. Tissaia's mouth went dry, and she unclasped her hands as she picked up the pace. Something must be wrong, she thought, to bring Yennefer back. She hadn't returned to Aretuza since she had ascended, and they had not had any contact with each other since Yennefer had manoeuvred herself into King Virfuril's court. Tissaia had written her a letter a few weeks after she had taken up her position, warning her about The Brotherhood's view of her behaviour, but she had not received a reply. Tissaia felt that her fear was justified when she sensed one or possibly two other people try to open a portal in her quarters.

Tissaia fumbled with the key to her quarters before she unlocked the door and stepped inside. With a wave of her hand, the candles flared to life and illuminated her large office. Tissaia's fingers tightened around the door handle before she pulled herself away. Yennefer was curled up on her side in the middle of the room with strands of black hair plastered to her pale, sweaty face. She was clutching her stomach, and there was a small pool of blood soaking into the rug beneath her. Tissaia slammed the door shut and moved towards Yennefer. Her knees pressed against the wet fabric of the rug as she rolled Yennefer onto her back and pulled her hands away from her side. There was a deep, diagonal cut about an inch long in Yennefer's stomach between her left hip bone and her bellybutton. She had been stabbed.

Tissaia pulled at the edges of the hole in Yennefer's bloody dress to make the tear wider, pressed her hands against the wound, and started to chant an incantation.

"Dewch â'r cnawd at ei gilydd, ei wella, ei drwsio, gwau'r rhwyg at ei gilydd…"

Tissaia's hands tingled as her magic surrounded Yennefer's wound and worked its way through her body. In her mind, she saw hundreds of tiny little fibres grow out from either side of the wound. Under her guidance, the fibres reached across the gap, wrapped around each other, and knitted themselves into new muscle and tissue

"…Helpwch y clwyf hwn i gau, bwydo'r cnawd a'r asgwrn."

Tissaia felt the wound close and her mind refocus as she finished her spell. She placed her hands flat against the floor in front of her to steady herself as her vision clouded and the room began to spin. Her chest felt tight and she was having difficulty breathing. Tissaia closed her eyes and waited for her light-headedness to subside before checking Yennefer's injury. There had been too much injured tissue for her to heal the wound completely, but she had managed to repair the worst damage. The wound had been significantly reduced in size, and she had mended all but the top few layers of tissue. Yennefer's body could do the rest of the work.

Using a basin of water, she had fetched from her adjacent quarters, Tissaia cleaned Yennefer's wound, covered it will a pillowcase, and bandaged it with a strip cut from the bottom of her ruined dress. Then, she looked at Yennefer. The young sorceress had her eyes closed and there was blood on her face from where she had bitten her bottom lip so hard it had bled. Tissaia wiped away the mark and brushed the hair from Yennefer's face. Her skin was pale and clammy from all the blood she had lost, and her pulse was weak, but she was breathing steadily.

Tissaia stroked Yennefer's cheek and sighed. "What trouble have you gotten yourself into now, girl?" she said.

Yennefer turned her head to the side and leaned into the other woman's touch. When Tissaia reached out gently with her mind she realised that Yennefer was unconscious.

Tissaia smiled. "You've lost a lot of blood, piglet, so I'm willing to forget about your misdemeanours for now. We will have this argument tomorrow, I'm sure, but for now, rest."

With the use of magic, Tissaia carried Yennefer into the next room and put her down on the bed before leaving to collect some bandages and dressings. She could have woken some of the other sorceresses and have them tend to Yennefer in the medical ward, but she wanted to keep an eye on her and make sure that she didn't disappear during the night before they had a chance to talk.

Yennefer was still sleeping peacefully when Tissaia returned. She pulled a chair up to the bed and leant forwards to cut the makeshift dressing off. That was when she noticed the dark crimson flower blossoming against the green fabric of her dress.

The bundle of cloth she had tied to Yennefer stomach was completely soaked through. It wasn't possible, Tissaia thought, there shouldn't be this much blood. Tissaia cut the dressing away and dropped it to the floor, staining her previously immaculate quarters. The wound in Yennefer's stomach had re-opened and grown back to almost half it's original size and depth. Tissaia didn't understand. She had felt her magic working on Yennefer's body and had seen the result of her spell. Her wound had been healed.

Tissaia knelt beside the bed and pulled Yennefer's body to the end of the mattress. She looked at the wound more closely, moping up the blood with her sleeves, but she could not see anything unusual about it. Too spent to heal her and not knowing whether the spell would hold, Tissaia stitched Yennefer's wound together using the needle and thread that she used to adjust her clothes, then dressed and bandaged it.

Her hands were covered in blood when she had finished, and Tissaia noticed that Yennefer's lips had gone blue and that she was sweating profusely. She guessed that Yennefer's body had gone into shock because she had lost too much fluid for her heart to pump a sufficient amount of blood to her body. In the morning, Tissaia would have to check whether it had damaged any of her integral organs, and she dearly hoped not. It would be a painful process to heal them and Yennefer had already gone through enough transformation.

Gripping the edge of her chair, Tissaia pulled herself up and walked into her office. She collected a grimoire from one of her shelves and took it back into the bedroom. There was something wrong with Yennefer's wound, and she was determined to find out what it as before morning. She had already tapped into her reserves trying to heal Yennefer, but this was something she needed to do. Whatever her students may think, Tissaia took her duty of care very seriously. Yennefer might not be her charge anymore, but she would always be Tissaia's responsibility, and she wasn't willing to trust anyone else to save her.

* * *

Bad-Things-Happen-Bingo Prompt for choppedcopsharkpsychic on Tumblr: Yennefer and Tissaia bleeding through the bandages, The Witcher Netflix.

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	7. Hurting to Heal

**Warnings**: Spoilers for 'The Witcher' Netflix show, series 1, episode 7 and 8.

* * *

It started out the same as her visit to Rinde. Yennefer was sitting at her vanity, brushing her hair in the mirror when she felt Tissaia's presence behind her. But unlike before, her arrival was not unexpected.

It had been a few weeks since Sodden had ended and she had slipped out of Aretuza against Tissaia's advice. The Rectoress had said she would be safer in Aretuza, and though Yennefer agreed, she could not stay. Aretuza had too many bad memories. Instead, she had been trying to lay low in her house in Vengerberg. Her efforts to conceal herself, however, had not been enough to stop the Rectoress from finding her it would seem, or perhaps the woman simply knew her too well.

"It's late," Yennefer said without looking up, "come back tomorrow, Rectoress, and lecture me then. I don't have the strength to listen to you today."

There was a soft thud behind her and Yennefer looked round. "Shit!"

Tissaia was on her knees, one hand braced against the floor and the other pressed against a bloody gash on the outside of her right thigh that was almost the width of her hand. Loose strands of hair were stuck to her sweaty face and there was a slight trickle of blood running down the side of her nose from the corner of her left eye. Yennefer caught Tissaia by the shoulders as the arm supporting her gave out and eased her into a sitting position.

Supporting her with one arm, Yennefer pulled Tissaia towards her and rested her weight against her. Using a towel she had summoned, Yennefer brushed Tissaia's hand away from her wound and applied pressure to it. Tissaia's cheek pressed against Yennefer's collar bone as she inhaled sharply through gritted teeth. Yennefer could feel the heat of Tissaia's skin through her nightdress; she was burning up.

Yennefer tightened her grip around the other woman's waist. "What happened?" she asked.

"I was visiting a girl who had her conduit moment last night when I was ambushed," Tissaia replied between laboured breaths. "It was a trap. The girl was a doppler and after she cut me with her knife, I was attacked by a group of men hiding in the forest."

Tissaia trembled. She wrapped a hand around the arm at her waist and muffled her cry in Yennefer's chest. "I scarcely managed to escape, but I fear that whoever wants me dead might yet succeed. This wound, it's killing me."

"Then let me heal it."

Yennefer tried to pull the towel away from Tissaia's leg, but the Rectoress grabbed her wrist in a weak hold.

"You can't, not yet," she said.

Breathless, Tissaia clutched her throat and tried to take a deep breath, but the air seemed to get stuck in her throat and she coughed. Yennefer dropped her hand from Tissaia's waist to her hip as the older woman struggled to breathe. She rubbed her thumb against Tissaia's hipbone and waited.

After a minute, Tissaia caught her breath and continued. "The wound, it's poisoned. You must draw out the toxin before you can-"

"What! No, I can't. I'm not that skilled at healing. I need to take you back to Aretuza, Vedrana can do what you ask. For fuck sake, why didn't you just go straight there? Why come to me?"

Tissaia locked her fingers with Yennefer's and squeezed her hand. "Because I trust you."

Yennefer opened and closed her mouth and rested her chin on the top of Tissaia's head. She wanted to help, but she hadn't used the spell that Tissaia spoke of in years and her mastery of it had been poor even back then. She needed time to study, but Tissaia's pulse had already begun to weaken against her fingers. Everything was happening too fast. Yennefer wondered whether she should ignore the Rectoress' advice and take her to Aretuza. Tissaia might not think that it was safe to do so, but Yennefer didn't believe that it could be any more dangerous than her terrible healing skills.

She was pulled from her musings by a fit of coughs that shook Tissaia's body and made her sink further into the floor and Yennefer's body.

"Yen-" Yennefer heard Tissaia's voice stick in her throat. "Yennefer, I don't have time to argue with you. I need you to do this for me."

Yennefer closed her eyes and sighed. "Okay."

Tissaia bit down on her bottom lip as Yennefer lowered her to the floor and placed her on her side. After putting a pillow carefully under her head, she shuffled down to Tissaia's legs and pulled up the towel. The wound had mostly stopped bleeding, but the pungent odour that reached Yennefer's nostrils after she removed the towel told her just how bad it had gotten. Feeling nauseated, Yennefer swallowed the lump in her throat and gritted her teeth as she bent over Tissaia's thigh and placed her hands on either side of the gash and began the spell.

She felt her magic flood Tissaia's veins and arteries, locking itself around the toxins infecting her body and then pulling them towards Yennefer's hands and the open wound. Tissaia screamed before cutting herself off by biting down on her forearm. Her leg jerked under Yennefer's hands and Yennefer leaned her weight against it and pressed Tissaia's thigh against the floor to hold it in place. Even though the sound was muffled, Tissaia's cries ripped through Yennefer's heart and it took all her self-control to stop her from pulling away or losing concentration. Her knuckles whitened as she gripped Tissaia's leg tightly and focused on her work. The spell wasn't supposed to be this painful. If Yennefer was more adept, the only pain she would have caused would be from her grip on Tissaia's thigh.

After a few minutes, the blood trickling out of Tissaia's wound darkened and thickened. It was almost black, and Yennefer's head spun as the smell from the infection intensified. Beads of sweat had started to form on her brow, and when her spell could not detect any more poison and the blood coming from the wound looked normal, Yennefer's breaths were coming out in short, ragged gasps. She eased the pressure on Tissaia's thigh and used a spell to pull the chair from her vanity towards her so she could elevate her leg. When she had recovered her breath, Yennefer healed as much of the wound as she could before magically sewing it shut to finish healing later.

Breathless again, Yennefer laid back with her face towards the other woman. Tissaia had her eyes closed and her arm was still partly thrown across her face, wrist in the crook of her neck, from where she had tried to muffle her cries. Watching the rise and fall of her chest, Yennefer noticed that Tissaia's breathing had evened out. She was in the clear.

Yennefer rubbed the back of Tissaia's hand. "Tissaia?"

"Yes?" she replied without opening her eyes.

"Should I carry you to the bed?"

Tissaia shook her head slightly. "No. I think I've suffered enough indignity for one day. Give me a minute to collect myself, and then help me up."

Yennefer rolled her eyes but let Tissaia be. She turned onto her back and watched the candle flicker across the ceiling.

After a while, she spoke. "Tissaia?"

Tissaia's warm breath tickled the side of her face. Yennefer looked over her shoulder and saw the other woman's relaxed expression. She had fallen asleep.

Yennefer tried to suppress a laugh. "Would it be more of an affront, I wonder, to leave you to sleep on the floor, or to carry you to a bed?"

Yennefer paused and wiped away the strands of hair stuck to Tissaia's face. Smiling to herself, Yennefer lifted Tissaia off the floor and carried her to the fourposter bed that was, thankfully, only a few steps away. She put Tissaia down and checked on her wound, then collapsed onto the other side of the bed without stripping out of her bloody nightdress. Lying back, she pulled the covers over both of them and quickly fell asleep.

* * *

Bad-Things-Happen-Bingo Prompt for Anonymous on Tumblr: Tissaia and Yennefer harmful healing, The Witcher Netflix.

For more information about this collection, what Bad-Things-Happens-Bingo is, and how to submit a prompt, check the title page.

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	8. Cursed Spine

**Warnings**: Spoilers for 'The Witcher' Netflix show, series 1, episode 2

* * *

When Yennefer entered the greenhouse late for the third morning in a row, she had expected a stern telling off. The Rectoress had already commented on her tardiness and had reminded Yennefer that her expectations were not to be tested. Yennefer was surprised, then, when the Rectoress did not turn towards her or halt her teaching when she walked in late. After she reached her lectern, the Rectoress caught her eye briefly and then looked away.

Yennefer brushed her thumb over a splinter in her lectern. She wondered why Tissaia had not said anything and felt her stomach churn. Maybe she was going to say something later, or perhaps the Rectoress had decided on another form of punishment after seeing that her reprimands had not had the desired effect. Either way, Yennefer wished that the Rectoress would do something now because the uncertainty was worse.

As the lesson went on, Yennefer shivered and gritted her teeth as the clenching of her stomach muscles made a burst of pain spread across her back. They were halfway through the winter season, but Aretuza was only getting colder, and her pain worse. She had never faired well in this season because the cold was unusually cruel to her. It seemed to seep into the cracks in her bones and make her muscles tighten.

She had missed breakfast this morning because of how long it had taken her to get out of bed and dress, and she had still been late to class. Sharp, hot pain had shot across her back on either side of her spine when she had made the slightest of movements, and when she had tried to stretch, tears had filled her eyes. Standing at the lectern, Yennefer's legs felt weak and numb, and she leant her weight on her forearms as they pressed against the wood. Her lips were dry and bloody from all the times as had bitten them and her stomach grumbled.

Yennefer tried to concentrate on what the Rectoress was saying and followed the flow of her hands and the curve of her fingers as she demonstrated the spell that they would be learning, but the pain in her back kept pulling her thoughts away. Yennefer curled her fingers around the edge of the wood until her knuckles whitened and dropped her head. She felt dizzy.

When the sensation had passed, and she looked up. The Rectoress had stepped away from her lectern and was walking around the room. Pretending to look at the notes she had scrawled on a piece of parchment, Yennefer watched the other girls practise the spell. She tried to catch the words that they said and the movements that they made. After a while, Yennefer had seen enough to piece together what she was supposed to be doing and pulled her small plant pot towards her.

She practised the words of the enlargement spell a few times and then moved on to the gesture. The pain in her back intensified as she tried to take up the correct posture and raise herself up as much as she could. With her jaw clenched, Yennefer twisted her hands, fingers and arms as the spell demanded while beads of sweat formed on her brow and she clenched her stomach muscles.

From the other side of the room, Yennefer noticed the Rectoress watching her out of the corner of her eye while she corrected the curve of Sabrina's fingers. The young sorceress tried to spell again, and her plant pot and the herbs growing inside doubled in size. The Rectoress inclined her head towards Sabrina and said something that Yennefer did not hear, and then caught her eye.

Yennefer swallowed and looked away. She focused her attention on her pot and started moving her hands. When she opened her mouth to speak the incantation, the words got stuck in her throat as heat spread across her back and down her legs. Throwing her head back, Yennefer tried again, and again, and again, but the pain kept suffocating her words. She looked up from her plant at Tissaia, but the Rectoress had already moved on. Yennefer let her shoulders slump forwards and her posture deflate. When the Rectoress dismissed them, hers was the only pot that had remained untouched.

Yennefer started to follow the other girls out of class when the Rectoress stopped her. "Come here, piglet," she said.

Yennefer stepped up to where the Rectoress was waiting. She balled her skirt in her hands as she tried not to back away from her intense stare.

"Tell me, why have you not sought any help for your pain?" the Rectoress asked.

Yennefer's mouth went dry and she swallowed. "I-I-"

"Speak up, girl."

"Because I didn't think you would help me," she answered.

Realizing what she had said, Yennefer crossed her arms over her chest and dropped her eyes to the floor. Knowing how pitiful she sounded, Yennefer waited for the Rectoress to scold her and flinched when she felt her hands on her back.

The Rectoress squeezed her shoulder. "Relax, piglet," she said in a gentle tone that Yennefer had not heard from her before.

Yennefer took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. She heard the Rectoress speak an incantation that she did not recognize and felt heat spread down her back and across her legs. The magic kneaded her muscles and eased out the tension she held in her back and shoulders. Yennefer sighed. It felt wonderful. When the Rectoress drew back her hands the only thing that Yennefer felt in her back was an unusual but comforting heat, like the breath of summer.

The Rectoress stepped back and clasped her hands in front of her as though nothing had happened. "The next time that your spine starts to trouble you, I expect you to go to the medical ward and ask for help. Do not let this happen again, piglet, do you understand?"

"Yes, Rectoress."

"Good, then you may go."

Yennefer turned on her heels and was almost at the door when Tissaia stopped her again. "Wait."

She looked over her shoulder at the Rectoress and noticed an apple floating in front of her.

"It is unwise to start your day on an empty stomach. Make sure you are at breakfast tomorrow."

Yennefer nodded and took the apple. "Thank you."

When she was back in her room, Yennefer dropped down on the edge of her bed and ran her fingers over the piece of fruit in her lap. She had forgotten a time, if there had ever been one, when her life had not been accompanied by the constant aching of her cursed spine. Yennefer stretched her arms above her head and sighed. This was something that she could get used to, and she wondered whether she had been too quick to judge the Rectoress. She had wanted to hate her for taking her away, for buying her, but now she wasn't so sure.

Yennefer laid back in bed and took a bite of her apple. The juice made her lips tingle and when she had finished, Yennefer didn't feel hungry anymore. She tossed the core on the floor and looked up at the ceiling as she tried to remember the unusual tenderness she had heard in the Rectoress' voice.

* * *

Bad-Things-Happen-Bingo Prompt for Anonymous on Tumblr: Yennefer - Chronic pain, The Witcher Netflix.

For more information about this collection, what Bad-Things-Happens-Bingo is, and how to submit a prompt, check the title page.

If you have enjoyed this piece of work, please consider leaving a comment. It is always wonderful to hear from readers and comments provide me with the strength I need to keep on writing. (Pretty please? Help to reassure my insecure arse).


	9. A Night to Remember

**Warnings**: Spoilers for 'The Witcher: Wild Hunt' and 'The Witcher: 'Blood and Wine'

* * *

Geralt gritted his teeth as the pain from the slashes in his neck exploded in his head with blinding whiteness. His sword clattered to the floor and the vibrations it made when the metal fell against the wooden planks of the hut rang in his head. He pressed his hands against his neck and felt blood pouring down his arm and dripping onto his collar-bone. Geralt took a step forward and tripped over Orianna's limp body. He winced as the impact of his knees smashing against the ground rippled through his body and jolted neck.

He moved one hand away from his wound and grabbed the dress that was lying on the floor having dropped off Orianna's body when she had changed shape. Putting the dirty fabric between his teeth, Geralt ripped it to shreds. Then, taking the largest part of the cloth, he bundled it and placed it against his neck then tied it in place with the remaining strips of fabric.

Geralt's limbs trembled as he got to his feet. He rested his weight against the slanting wall of the hut and staggered towards the door. His pulse was beating in his ears and his head started to spin as he struggled to draw enough air into his constricted lungs. Geralt clutched his throat as he gasped and panted and felt that the bandage was wet against his fingers, already soaked through with his blood.

When his night vision started to flicker and fade, Geralt felt his way outside. He tried to whistle for Roach, but the sound was choked by a gurgle that formed in his throat. The muscle's in Geralt's stomach contracted as he coughed up blood and bile, covering his chest and boots.

To his right, Geralt heard a horse whining, perhaps startled by the sounds of him choking on his blood. The witcher started to move towards it and caught the scent of sweat and hay amongst the nauseating stench of his slow and painful death. He stumbled forwards and fell against Roach's side. The horse shuffled and stepped away, but Geralt held on and when his mount had stilled, he reached out for his satchel.

He lifted the flap and fingered the bottles inside, running his hands over their labels. It had been Yennefer who had suggested, or rather insisted, that he started to mark his potions so that she could administer them to him if he was ever unable. She knew what they did, but did not have the knowledge or the senses to identify which was which. Geralt hadn't thought it was necessary but he had agreed nevertheless, and it was lucky that he had.

After finding the bottle labelled 'Swallow', Geralt pulled out the cork with his teeth and drained the potion. The glass thudded against the dirt as it slipped from Geralt's hand. He collapsed to the ground, hands pressed against his neck and the tatters of Orianna's grey dress which were stained dark red, and passed out.

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Bad-Things-Happen-Bingo Prompt for Anonymous on Tumblr: Geralt - Bleeding through the bandages, The Witcher books and games.

For more information about this collection, what Bad-Things-Happens-Bingo is, and how to submit a prompt, check the title page.

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	10. Don't Go

**Warnings**: Spoilers for The Witcher Netflix series 1, episode 5, 7 and 8.

* * *

The first thing that Yennefer noticed when she woke up, was that she was freezing.

She drew her arms across her chest and pulled her knees towards her chin. When she opened her eyes, she was sure that she would be able to see her breath, but she didn't. The air was warm against her face and a blanket of smoke and embers covered her body and the ground as far as she could see.

The second thing she noticed, was the body lying underneath her.

Yennefer's head was resting on someone's chest and there was an arm draped over her shoulders and waist. Their body was covered by a thick, dark purple material speckled with grey that made Yennefer's cheeks itch. She felt their breath against the top of her head and their weak but steady presence gently touching hers.

"Tiss-" The word got caught in her throat and made her wince. Yennefer swallowed painfully and tried again. "Tissaia?"

The other woman did not respond.

Yennefer lifted her head and saw that there was a steady trickle of blood running from Tissaia's nose and from the corner of her mouth. Her eyes were closed, and she looked deathly pale, and except for the slight rise and fall of her chest, she was lying perfectly still.

Her hand shaking from the cold she felt deep in her bones, Yennefer reached up and touched Tissaia's face, gently tapping her cheek, and felt her fingers tingle and her hand go numb. When she withdrew her touch, letting her hand drift to Tissaia's forearm, the sensation passed. Yennefer closed her eyes and clutched at the other woman's limp body, and let her presence spread outwards.

She pressed herself against Tissaia's magic and opened herself to her, but Tissaia's presence was weak and unstable, and it did not answer her calls. Instead, as Yennefer urged her magic further into Tissaia's thoughts and body, she felt a sort of static shot burst across and inside her head and heard Tissaia moan and inhale sharply beneath her. Yennefer pulled her presence away from Tissaia's.

Her body had reacted to Yennefer's magic, and Yennefer had reacted to hers. No. Yennefer had reacted to something inside Tissaia, and the feeling was familiar, but she wasn't sure why. She raised her hand to Tissaia's face and brushed her thumb over her cheekbone. Again, her fingers tingled, and her hand went numb. Yennefer gasped. Dimeritium.

Hands slipped from Yennefer's waist and shoulders as she sat up and pulled back Tissaia's sleeves. She could not see any dimeritium bands around her wrists, or bound to her neck or ankles. _Where was it?_ she thought. Yennefer was certain now that the sensation she had felt was her magic being nullified, but she could not see any dimeritium. So why had she felt it when she had touched Tissaia? That was when she realized the only other place it could be. Inside her.

Yennefer settled her head back on Tissaia's chest and pressed herself against the other woman, wrapping her arms around her waist. She felt Tissaia's shallow breaths under her forearm as her chest rose and fell steadily. Yennefer tried to breathe with her, but kept falling out of sync as her mind drifted to dark waters.

She wasn't sure what to do. Though she didn't know exactly what effect ingested dimeritium would have on a mage, it didn't take an educated guess to know that it would be bad. Tissaia needed urgent medical attention, but with the dimeritium in her system Yennefer didn't feel comfortable moving her with a portal, and she was too weak to carry her. There was nothing she could do but wait and hope that their allies from Sodden or the northern kingdoms would recover them, or that Tissaia would regain consciousness and tell her what she needed to do; she always had a plan.

With Tissaia's warm body held tightly in her arms, Yennefer stopped shivering, and despite the uneven ground on which the lay, she was rather comfortable. If she closed her eyes, Yennefer knew she would fall asleep, and though her body wanted nothing more than to rest, she wanted to keep an eye on Tissaia in case her condition got worse. To stop herself from giving in to the demands of her body, Yennefer picked up a sharp stone and held it in the palm of her hand so a few of its sharp edges dug into her skin while her eyes traced the patterns of the stars at the edge of the world she knew.

After what felt like an hour, Yennefer rubbed her eyes and bit down on her bottom lip to stifle a yawn that she felt brewing in the back of her throat. As she swallowed the sound, Yennefer thought she heard loose stones shifting down the rockface where they lay. She felt the stone in her hand pierce the skin of her palm as she clutched it tightly and listened, slightly raising her head so that her ears were not pressed against the thick fabric of Tissaia's dress.

She heard the noise again, and it was closer this time. Being careful not to touch Tissaia's exposed skin, Yennefer channelled magic to the tips of her fingers and looked towards where she guessed the noise was coming from.

The sound kept getting louder and eventually Yennefer heard heavy footsteps amongst the clatter of falling stones. As she waited to see who would emerge over the edge of the ridge, Yennefer realized how tightly she was hugging Tissaia's body and eased her grip. But she did not let go, not until she saw the tip of a winged helmet appear over the edge of the ridge.

Palms facing downwards, Yennefer slammed her hands into the ground and opened a portal beneath her. She felt her stomach lurch and wrapped her arms back around Tissaia's waist as they fell. Yennefer cursed as she landed on her left side and took much of her weight and Tissaia's weight in her shoulder. She pulled her arm out from underneath Tissaia and rolled onto her back in time to see the portal above them close.

Glancing sideways, Yennefer reached out for Tissaia's hand and pressed her fingers against her wrist. After she found her pulse, weak by steady, she let out a huge breath she didn't know she had been holding. Yennefer looked at Tissaia's face, then at the place she had taken them to, and realized where they were; Rinde.

It was the last place they had seen each other before Vilgefortz found her in Nilfgaard and brought her to Aretuza. She hadn't meant to come here, to the ruins of the Mayor's house where the Rectoress had visited her hours before her encounter with the witcher and the djin. When she had opened the portal, her only thought had been to get herself and Tissaia as far away from Sodden as possible. Yet something about that moment of panic had landed them back here.

Yennefer was sure that it probably meant something, but she was too tired to think about it. Instead, she closed her eyes and breathed with Tissaia until she fell asleep.

* * *

It was still dark outside when she woke up. Yennefer sighed and opened then closed her eyes, shifting her hips slightly further back. Briefly, she wondered what had woken her up. She usually slept rather soundly through the night and would only stir because of the rising sun. But whatever it might have been, she was sure that it wasn't important. It was probably just an owl or some drunkard staggering around outside her window, which she must have left open because it felt rather draughty.

She was considering whether she could be bothered to get up and close it when she heard a sound that seemed to cut through the fog encircling her memory and pull her thoughts back to reality. Tissaia, who had rolled onto her side so that her back was facing Yennefer, was coughing violently and gasping for air.

"Shit!"

Waving her hand to light the fireplace that she remembered was nearby, Yennefer sat up and scrambled to her feet, stepping around Tissaia and kneeling in front of her.

She was curled up in a ball, eyes tightly closed as her body trembled. Strands of hair that had slipped from her bun were stuck to the side of her sweaty face and when Yennefer brushed them away, she felt the heat radiating from Tissaia's skin. She had a fever.

One of her hands was clutching her side as her stomach muscles strained from all the coughing, and the other was covering her mouth. By the sound of it, her coughs chesty, Tissaia was hacking up her lungs, and Yennefer questioned whether she had inhaled the dimeritium that was poisoning her body. She knew that it had a powdered form and because she could not see any visible wound on Tissaia's body it seemed implausible that she might have been poisoned by a dimeritium weapon.

To check her theory, Yennefer wrestled Tissaia's hand away from her mouth and looked at it. Her fingers were coated in a mix of unusually dark blood and mucus that appeared to sparkle slightly in the light as though freckled with specks of silver.

The dimeritium had damaged her lungs and her body was trying to get rid of it. That explained the fever too. Tissaia's body was trying to stimulate her immune system to fight the infection. But at this rate, it might just kill her.

While she waited for Tissaia's coughing fit to pass, Yennefer stroked her hair and pressed her palm against the back of Tissaia's hand which was grasping at the dress around her hip. Shortly after her coughing subsided and Tissaia caught her breath, she fell asleep holding Yennefer's hand.

Carefully pulling herself free from the other woman's grasp, Yennefer got to her feet and searched the ruins of the mayor's house for a glass and a pitcher. She found them beneath the broken pieces of a table covered in a few decades worth of dust and cleaned them. Then she sat down on a sofa that had been chewed and scratched by all manners of beast and, clenching her teeth, filled the pitcher and held it tightly in her hands as her stomach churned and the dimly lit room swayed.

After her light-headedness and nausea passed, Yennefer sat down next to Tissaia. Unsheathing the dagger that she kept strapped to the bottom of her leg Yennefer cut off part of Tissaia's dress (it was cleaner than hers and a more suitable fabric) and poured water on it. She cleaned Tissaia's hand and one side of her face, wringing out the cloth in a curved piece of broken pottery then rolled her onto her other side.

Tissaia whimpered in her sleep and brought her knees slightly closer to her chest, but she didn't wake up. Yennefer cleaned the other side of her face and then draped the damp cloth partly over her forehead. She didn't want to leave Tissaia on her back in case she choked on the blood and mucus that she was coughing up.

Yennefer checked Tissaia's temperature and decided that she would be too warm sleeping in her dress. She considered cutting her clothes off, but her hands were too unsteady, so she would have to wake Tissaia to undress her. Besides, she needed to drink some water after all that coughing and to help with her fever.

"Tissaia, you need to wake up," Yennefer said as she shook the other woman by the shoulder.

With her eyes still closed, Tissaia jerked her shoulder and grumbled. "Go away."

"No. You need to drink something."

"I'm fine."

"Really? Because you look like shit. Sit up, or I will haul you up myself."

Tissaia adjusted her position of the floor, rotating her shoulders so that more of her back was facing Yennefer who could barely see her face now.

Yennefer waited for a count of ten and then put the pitcher down with enough force to make sure that the sound rang in Tissaia's ears.

"Have it your way," she said.

Ignoring Tissaia's mumbled protests and curses, Yennefer rolled her onto her back and picked her up under the arms and moved her into a sitting position. She had never heard the Rectoress swear before and had the circumstanced been different, Yennefer thought that she might have found it rather amusing.

She rested Tissaia's back against her chest and kept an arm around her waist as she reached for the water. Tissaia tried to pull her off but quickly gave up and conceded to leaning her weight against Yennefer as she tried to catch her breath, exhausted from her slight struggle.

Yennefer lifted to goblet to her face. "Drink this."

She let Tissaia take the water from her and held the damp cloth to her forehead while she drank. After checking that it was empty, Yennefer set the goblet down on the floor and felt Tissaia shift under her arm as she moved to rest her head on Yennefer's shoulder.

Despite the gravity of the situation, Yennefer smiled. While there was something deeply unsettling about seeing her great mentor in such a vulnerable and exposed state, it was also endearing in a way. Right now, Tissaia wasn't a sorceress or the Rectoress of Aretuza. She didn't care about the impression she was giving or the emotions that she was revealing.

It was nice to see Tissaia as herself, though Yennefer supposed that she would never know for certain how much of this was the poison, and how much was just Tissaia acting without any of her usual restraint. Still, she wanted to imagine that it was more of the latter than the former. It helped make Tissaia seem just a little bit more like her, and Yennefer liked that.

"You can't go to sleep just yet, Tissaia," said Yennefer as she wiped a bead of water from the other woman's face, "you need to undress. You're burning up."

Though she wasn't much help, Tissaia didn't protest as Yennefer helped her out of her dress, leaving her in her undergarments and a long silk vest that reached down to her waist. Yennefer threw Tissaia's clothes onto the sofa before taking her dress off. She didn't need to, but she felt that it would make Tissaia more comfortable in the morning if she wasn't the only one exposed.

Still sitting on the floor behind Tissaia, Yennefer looked around the room for something that they could use as bedding. On the far side of the room, she spotted a curtain hanging on a collapsed railing and a large rug buried under a ruined stool beside it. There were also a few salvageable pillows on the sofa she had sat on earlier.

Intending to retrieve the items, Yennefer got to her feet, but Tissaia grabbed her wrist before she could walk away and looked up at her with wide eyes.

"Don't go," she said.

Yennefer smiled and crouched down, squeezing Tissaia's shoulders. "I'm not going anywhere. I just need to get a few things on the other side of the room. I won't move out of sight, I promise."

"Okay."

Bare feet leaving marks in the dust, Yennefer quickly pulled down the curtain and dragged the rug out from the rubble and placed it beside Tissaia. Then, she collected a few of the sofa cushions, put them down on the rug, and gestured for Tissaia to come over.

She helped her lie down and get comfortable before fetching the pitcher and refilling it in case Tissaia woke up during the night and wanted something to drink. Tissaia watched her from behind droopy eyelids as Yennefer checked her temperature. It was still high, but not quite as bad as before; it was a promising start.

Satisfied that there was nothing else she could do, Yennefer settled down on the mattress and threw the old curtain over them. It itched a little, but it was better than nothing.

Lying on her back, Yennefer looked over her shoulder at Tissaia to wish her goodnight, but by the looks of things, she was already fast asleep.

Yennefer chuckled and leant over, kissing Tissaia's temple. "Goodnight," she said.

The light in the fireplace, a remnant of her chaos, dimmed as Yennefer settled down beside Tissaia and closed her eyes. Unlike she usually did, and despite all the cracks in the wall and the curtain-less windows, Yennefer did not wake up when the sun began to rise. Instead, she and Tissaia slept well until midday and did not leave Rinde for a few days. They knew that the others would be looking for them, but they couldn't think of a good reason to leave just yet.

* * *

Bad-Things-Happen-Bingo Prompt for Anonymous on Tumblr: Tissaia and Yennefer - Poison/Venom, The Witcher Netflix.

For more information about this collection, what Bad-Things-Happens-Bingo is, and how to submit a prompt, check the title page.

If you have enjoyed this piece of work, please consider leaving a comment. It is always wonderful to hear from readers and comments provide me with the strength I need to keep on writing. (Pretty please? Help to reassure my insecure arse).


	11. Come Back

**Warnings**: Spoilers for The Witcher Netflix series 1, episode 7 and 8.

I've written this in a different style than you will be used to. Tell me what you think of it Xx

* * *

Tissaia knew something was wrong the instant she felt Yennefer reach out to her telepathically and without warning.

It was a dreary morning that suited her bleak mood rather perfectly, not that she let it show on her face, of course, maintaining instead her preferred air of stern indifference. Tissaia had been standing at the back of the greenhouse watching Triss teach some of the young apprentices how to enhance the magical and medicinal properties of a plant while the rain beat down on the glass panes. It was a responsibility that she had thrust on the young sorceress late last night after her patience for Triss' self-pity and forced isolation had reached its limit. Tissaia knew that Triss' burn scars, which covered the front of her neck and went down to the top part of her chest stopping just above her breasts, would take a considerable time to heal and that frankly they might never fade completely, and she had been not willing to let Triss hide for centuries waiting for a cure that might not exist.

Triss had started to tear up when Tissaia had first suggested, in a tone that left no room for doubt that she expected Triss to accept, that she took over Tissaia's lesson. But now, Triss looked perkier than she had in days and there was an entirely inappropriate childish grin spread across her face. She had even undone some of the buttons on her high collared dress so that her clothing no longer looked like it was trying to suffocate her. From her secluded spot, certain that her face was hidden, Tissaia allowed herself a small smile because heaven only knows she needed it.

After observing Triss for several minutes, Tissaia decided that she would be fine on her own and tried to slip out of the greenhouse unnoticed. That was when she realized something was wrong.

_Tissaia, help me, please._

Tissaia gasped and the door handle she had been holding snapped back into place. _Yennefer? _she said.

She had recognized Yennefer's presence at once and felt a sense of relief replace her initial surprise at the unexpected intrusion. She had spent every day since their victory at Sodden, which had been five days, trying to find Yennefer without any luck. But her joy was cut short when she noticed Yennefer urging her to open her mind.

Though the request was alarming and went against even the most basic forms of etiquette, Tissaia allowed Yennefer to bypass her many mental defences and their minds became so interconnected that their thoughts and emotions were almost indistinguishable. It was a level of connectedness and intimacy that Tissaia had only ever attempted with her mentor and the former Rectoress during a lesson. She assumed that Yennefer would have a good reason, a very good reason, to share herself in this manner, and she was right.

Tissaia had to brace against the door as Yennefer's consciousness flooded and overwhelmed every part of her senses, filling her mind. She felt the other woman's anger and terror so clearly that her hands started to shake, and her heart rate increased. She could also tell that Yennefer's body was in great pain, and her worry added itself to the cocktail of sensation they were sharing.

W_here are you?_ Tissaia thought.

She received a reply immediately. _I don't know. A forest, and it's crawling with Nilfgaardian soldiers. You have to help me. They want to take me to the capital, to the Emperor! _

Tissaia clutched her silver pendant so hard that it carved the symbol of Aretuza into the palm of her hand. _No one is taking you anywhere,_ Tissaia thought. _I will find you, but you need to help me._

_How?_ Yennefer asked.

_Cast a spell that I can trace, a small one. Nilfgaard will miss it, but it will be enough for me._

_Okay._

Yennefer's thoughts turned to a tree trunk and, judging by the incantation that Tissaia heard and the way her hands tingled, levitated it off the ground.

Then, she felt Yennefer's heart leap into her throat. _Footsteps. Someone's coming._

White light flashed in front of Tissaia's eyes and a stab of pain burst across her head. Yennefer's presence inside her mind went blank and abruptly disappeared. The sudden loss made Tissaia nauseated. It felt like a part of her had been cut loose and yanked away and the only trace that had been left behind was her ragged breath steaming up the glass door and a lone voice inside her head that suddenly seemed too loud.

Tissaia let go of her pendant and wiped the sweat from her brow. When she had composed herself, and only then, did she turn around. Her students were blatantly staring at her, though they appeared to remember themselves and divert their eyes away nervously when she narrowed her eyes at them.

_You just felt her, Yennefer, didn't you?_ Triss asked telepathically.

_Yes, I did,_ Tissaia said.

_Is she alright?_

_She will be._

Tissaia clasped her hands in front of her skirt and stepped up to Triss who was worrying her bottom lip.

"Since you have proven yourself an adequate teacher," Tissaia said, "you will cover my lessons for the next fortnight. Understand?"

Triss nodded but didn't ask why. She didn't need to.

"Good," Tissaia said. "I will check in on you in a few days. Carry on."

* * *

Practically dressed in a pair of tight blank pants, flat boots, a dark blue cotton shirt, and a black, sleeveless leather tunic with two front straps that covered the top of her chest and most of her waist, Tissaia stepped out of her portal and crossed her arms over her chest. Blinking, she tightened the cords of her cloak and waited for her magically enhanced eyesight to adjust until she saw the forest twenty feet around her as though it were bathed in gentle moonlight.

The night was cold and dark, amplifying the old forest's terrifying and eerie ambience. It looked like something from her childhood nightmares and shivered at the memory. Trees stood tall and proud all around her, their trunks covered in jagged wooden armour and their tips lost in the thick canopy that cloaked the forest in darkness. Snaking, thick roots had torn much of the ground apart and Tissaia was sure that they had claimed the lives of many careless wanderers who were too distracted to watch where they had been putting their feet. Determined not to be one of those fools, she kept her eyes mostly to the ground as she walked north.

It had taken her most of the day to divine Yennefer's previous location (Nilfgaard, specifically the Bellevar forest just outside Toussaint), and a good part of the evening and night to recover from the exhaustion it had cost her. Dread crept down Tissaia's spine with chilling steps at the thought of how long it had taken her to reach the forest and respond to Yennefer's desperate, terrified plea, and she tried to remind herself that the delay could not be helped. Try being the keyword.

She had to account for every contingency, and that meant assuming Nilfgaard had captured Yennefer and planned for her rescue attempt. If she wanted to be of any use to Yennefer right now, she needed all her strength and cunning. The possibility of capture or death was not an acceptable risks. Such an outcome would strength Nilfgaard's position immeasurably and topple the Brotherhood and Council which were already teetering. If Tissaia was being honest with herself, and she usually was, this was not a task that she should be undertaking, but no one would be sent in her place and she owed the girl. Yennefer would not be in this position if she had not asked her for help.

Tissaia stopped walking an hour later when she estimated that she was roughly half a mile from where Yennefer had been. She had purposefully not teleported too close in case Nilfgaardian soldiers were waiting there for her. She knelt on the ground, pulled off her leather gloves, and took a piece of thin black cloth from her pocket. It was painted with a series of intricate runes and markings that she had made earlier, and each symbol started to glow when she began casting a spell on the cloth. Magic hummed in her ears and flowed down her arms, through her fingers, and into each fibre of the cloth and every spec of ink she had drawn upon it. She finished the spell and, after the symbols had stopped shining, placed the plain side of the cloth against her closed eyes and tied it securely behind her head.

The enchantment made it feel as though fingers were pressing against her eyes and they started to water. Tissaia blinked to clear them and looked around. She saw a bird roosting in a hollow tree trunk a few metres to her right, its figure illuminated by a mix of red, orange and yellow light that she knew corresponded to its body temperature. The enchantment was working. If anyone was waiting in the forest to ambush her, she would see them.

Satisfied, Tissaia continued walking. The movement made her eyes hurt, as though she were looking into bright light, but she kept going. Her sight would have to adapt on the way. She had already lost too much time, and a little discomfort wasn't going to do her any lasting harm. After half a mile, she found what she had been looking for.

Her eyes fell upon a fallen log a little way in the distance and she experienced a strange sense of Deja vu that brought to mind Vandarianna's musings on temporal manipulation. It wasn't so much that Tissaia recognized where she was, but that she knew or felt that it was the right place in the same way that you can tell you've been somewhere before even though you were a child at the time. This was where Yennefer had been when she had contacted her.

Three humanoid figures were splayed out on the ground around the log and, judging by the cool tones that their bodies were giving off, they were dead. Tissaia checked the area around them and, seeing no one hiding in wait, moved closer and inspected the corpses.

Two were lying beside each other at the base of a tree that had a streak of black bark. Burns covered their chests and faces and there was a path of scorched grass that ran from just above their feet towards their heads and up the tree for about a metre. The other body was lying in a pool of blood with a tree branch protruding out of his neck that creaked and swayed in the breeze. Tissaia had to look away. It was a gruesome sight and she imagined that the blow had not killed him outright, leaving him to bleed to death. But her sympathy was limited. As with the other two bodies, he was wearing the colours of Nilfgaard.

Tissaia reached out for the fallen log and sat down. She had been right. Nilfgaard had intercepted Yennefer. They must have caught her when she had been distracted talking to her. What were they doing to her? Could they have been torturing her the whole time? How far had they taken her? Tissaia took a deep breath to fend off her rising panic. Or, she thought, Yennefer might have escaped. Either way, she needed to pick up the pace. The thought of Yennefer falling into Nilfgaardian hands made her insides tremble.

When her breathing had steadied, Tissaia let her presence spread outwards and searched for the edge of Yennefer's consciousness, but she could not find it. Yennefer was either too weak to connect, or she had been cut off from her magic. Neither possibility was appealing in the least. She got up, placed her palm against the burnt part of the tree and searched for a magical trace, pulling it out and holding it in the palm of her hand. She cast a spell and attached her magic to the trace that Yennefer's spell had left behind and followed it. She walked for another mile and a half until the trail, which had continually weakened, disappeared entirely.

Defeated, Tissaia slumped down with her back to a tree and held her head in her hands. She ached from head to toe and the enchantments affecting her eyes were giving her a terrible headache. She guessed that she had perhaps another two miles left in her at most before it all became too much for her to handle and she would have to head back to Aretuza and carry on tomorrow. But who knows what might happen to Yennefer in the meantime?

Tissaia screamed through gritted teeth and hit her thigh with the palm of her hand. It stung and she welcomed the pain. If she didn't find Yennefer soon, Nilfgaard certainly would and if they already had her, by tomorrow she would be out of the forest and too deep into enemy territory for Tissaia to save her. It looked like so was going to fail Yennefer again, she thought, and this time, she would probably lose her for good. But it seemed that Yennefer wasn't ready to be lost.

_Tissaia…_

She looked up with a start and clamped a hand over her mouth as a startled cry slipped out.

_Yennefer, where are you?_ Tissaia asked.

_Close_.

Again, Tissaia felt Yennefer's urge to deepen their connection and she let her in. For a brief second, she saw flashes of a slope and a stream then Yennefer's presence dropped from her mind.

Tissaia's fell to her knees, bent over and retched. When her stomach was empty, she wiped her mouth on the sleeve of her cotton shirt, drained the remaining water from her canteen, and got up. She checked the end of Yennefer's trail to guess the direction she might have taken and set off at a slow jog.

Fifteen minutes later she heard running water. She looked around and saw a humanoid figure lying on the ground several metres away. She reached out with her presence and touched the edge of Yennefer's consciousness. Tissaia lunged forwards then froze. This could still be a trap. She gripped the bottom of her shirt to steady her shaking hands and carefully looked around. There was no one else there; it wasn't an ambush.

She ran forwards and threw herself to the ground beside Yennefer and looked her over. Judging by the layer of mud that coated Yennefer's tattered dress, she must have been stuck inside the forest or surrounding area since she disappeared from Sodden. There was blood on her hands and spattered across her face, but Tissaia could not see any physical wounds on her and presumed that it must have come from the soldier she had impaled in the neck. Yennefer's matted hair was thrown across her face like a dirty veil and she was curled up on the ground in a shivering ball looking like a lost, vulnerable child. In all, she was an absolute mess, but she was alive and what's more, she did not look badly injured. Yennefer had been lucky. They both had.

Tissaia reached out to touch her but hesitated. "Yennefer," she whispered.

No response.

Tentatively, afraid of startling her, she brushed the hair from Yennefer's face and placed a hand lightly against her cheek. Yennefer, who had her eyes closed, mumbled something unintelligible and her head twitched. It looked as though she was having a nightmare. Tissaia covered Yennefer in her cloak and then gathered the younger woman up in her arms. She winced when the top of Yennefer's head hit her chin and tightened her grip until she stopped struggling and settled in her arms.

"Tissaia?" Yennefer said, her whispering voice muffled in Tissaia's chest.

Tissaia squeezed Yennefer's shoulders. "I'm here."

Yennefer pressed her cheek against the dip at the base of her throat and Tissaia felt her hot breath against her skin; strong and steady. She smoothed Yennefer's hair and pulled it out of her face while she kept watch. She flinched when Yennefer pushed her colds hands under the hem of her shirt and warmed them against the skin on her back, but didn't protest against the invasion. They sat like that for several minutes in comforting silence, their gentle touches and soft caresses speaking volumes.

"We need to leave," Tissaia said after a few minutes, "it isn't safe here."

Reluctantly, Tissaia let her arms drop to her sides and waited for Yennefer to let go. But she didn't. Instead, Yennefer tightened her grip and held Tissaia's in a bruising hold that made it difficult for her to breath. She placed her hands on the other woman's shoulders and pushed back slightly.

"Yennefer, let-"

Tissaia cried out in pain and clutched Yennefer's body as piercing nails travelled slowly down her back tearing her skin. Instinctively she tried to push Yennefer off, but her nails dug deeper and Tissaia's arms went slack. She slumped forwards, dropping her head over the other woman's shoulder.

That was when Yennefer let go and pulled her hands out from underneath Tissaia's shirt. For a moment, she wondered if it was over, though she wasn't quite sure what 'it' was, and tried to sit up. But she had barely raised her chin off Yennefer's shoulder when a hand pressed painfully against her torn skin, pushing her back, while slender fingers sticky with blood, some of it hers, wrapped around the back of her neck. Lips brushed against Tissaia's ear and an unfamiliar voice spoke to her in an undertone that made her breath catch in her throat. Yennefer was enjoying herself. Her mind had been twisted by dark magic. She was the trap.

"You don't know how long I've waited for this, _Rectoress_," Yennefer said.

Hands spun her around and Tissaia's face was pushed into the dirt. She clenched her jaw and inhaled sharply through her teeth as Yennefer pressed her knee into the small of her back and pulled one of her arms roughly behind her back, almost pulling it out of its socket. Click. Something cold, hard, and brittle snapped shut around her wrist and the magic she had been channelling into her fingers disappeared. She felt sick. Her connection to chaos has been shut off and she was powerless. Dimeritium.

An attempt to throw Yennefer off when she grabbed her other arm earned Tissaia a slap across the back that made her scream and brought tears to her eyes. Behind her, she could hear someone laughing maniacally. It didn't sound like Yennefer at all.

When Yennefer had finished shackling her arms behind her back, she grabbed Tissaia by the hair, pulled her to her feet and pushed her against a tree. With the leather tunic only offering sparse protection, the impact of her cuts against the jagged bark made her knees buckle and she fell forwards. Yennefer caught her by the neck, pulled her upright and pressed her body against Tissaia's to force her up against the tree.

She felt something sharp piercing the skin above her hip through the fabric of her shirt. Tissaia opened her mouth to speak and Yennefer's hand tightened around her neck, suffocating her voice. Then, she raised a hand to Tissaia's face and pulled up her blindfold. Yennefer smirked.

"I want you to look me in the eye, _Rectoress_," she said, "while I squeeze the life out of you. Just like you looked me in the eye when you brought me for less than a pig. But first," Yennefer bent closer, and the air from her lungs filled the space between them. "I think I'll bleed you dry."

She pressed down on the blade and cut the surface of Tissaia's skin. She winced, the sound strangled, and bit the inside of her cheek. But she did not back down from the other woman's hateful stare.

Yennefer snickered. "Is something the matter, _Rectoress_? Can't catch your breath, or are you too afraid to speak?"

Tissaia was starting to feel faint from the lack of oxygen and her eyes were going into the back of her head. She felt the tip of Yennefer's blade dig slightly deeper and noticed that she was starting to lean forwards. Yennefer must have noticed too because, despite her threat, she pulled the blade back so that it was just resting against Tissaia's skin and loosened the grip around her neck. She took several unsteady, desperate breaths before slowing down and inhaling deeply.

Then, Tissaia closed her eyes. "Tarian."

A flash of white light pierced her eyelids as the keyword activated the dormant spell woven that was woven into her pendant. The magic flung Yennefer backwards and then formed a metre-wide domed shield around her that shimmered in the air like a mirage.

Ignoring Yennefer's frenzied curses and the way her shield was flickering under a barrage of spells, Tissaia dropped to her knees and brought her mouth to her shoulder. Using her teeth, she grabbed the end of a small stick of putty that was hidden beneath the shoulder strap of her leather tunic and dropped it to the floor. She turned around and bent backwards to pick it up with her hands.

If she could get free of her restraints, Tissaia thought, she could subdue Yennefer and take her to Aretuza and fix her, make her right. Nilfgaard's dark magic had to be reversible and if there wasn't a cure then she would find one. Just because it had not been discovered yet didn't mean that a cure did not exist, they just lacked the knowledge to produce one and she would sort that. She would get Yennefer back. There was no question about it.

After warming the putty up in her hands, she placed it against the thinnest part of the shackle covering her right wrist. It reacted with the metal immediately and the dimeritium started to melt. The restraint started to burn Tissaia's skin and some of the metal dripped onto her wrist. She couldn't hold back her cry of pain. After a few seconds, she pulled her right hand free and rubbed it in the dirt to try and wipe off the melted dimeritium and to cool her skin before wrapping it up in her blindfold.

The shield was beginning to crack now and Tissaia realized that Yennefer would be able to break through any second. That meant she didn't have time to lockpick the remaining shackle. She would have to do this the hard way, then, and subdue Yennefer without magic. It was primitive and it would no doubt be painful for the both of them, and it was not a contingency that she had prepared for, but the only other option would be to run, hide, and remove the shackle in the hope of finding Yennefer again, and she disliked that prospect even more than the first. The waiting game was over, she needed to act here and now to save Yennefer, however difficult it may be.

Watching the tell-tale flicker of her domed shield, Tissaia crouched down, pulled out her dagger, and waited for an opening. It came in the form of a crack that streaked from the point of impact a few inches from Tissaia's face across the entire shield like a fork of lightning. She guessed that the next spell Yennefer cast would shatter the spell, and she was right. The sound of glass shattering into a thousand pieces resonated around her and made her ears ring. The spell collapsed inwards and the broken fragments of the shield fizzled out like tiny, golden firecrackers with a whizz and a flash. But Tissaia hardly noticed because as soon as Yennefer had unleashed the devastating blow to her shield, she had pounced.

She went low and rammed her shoulder into a spot just above Yennefer's hips so that when they went down, Yennefer broke her fall and she landed on top of her. Immediately, she tried to bring the hilt of her dagger down on Yennefer's forehead to knock her out and end things quickly, but she received a punch to the gut that knocked the wind right out of her and made her lose her balance. Yennefer seized her opportunity and grabbed Tissaia's upper arms, pulling her forwards and over her head. Her legs went up in the air and she rolled over and landed on her back with the top of her head a few inches from Yennefer's.

She got to her feet and spun on her heels in time to see Yennefer launch a kick at her, but not in time to dodge it. Yennefer's foot connected with her stomach and she was sent flying backwards and onto the ground again. She cursed inwardly. Though her short stature had not troubled her for centuries, it was starting to get on her nerves again. She didn't like being tossed around like a little rag-doll, and she expected that Yennefer knew that because, rather than striking her while she was down, Yennefer waited until she had gotten to her feet before knocking them out from under her with a sweep of her leg.

Clutching her weapon in her left hand, Tissaia landed on her front and gasped for air. Before she could do it herself, Yennefer grabbed her by the right strap of her leather tunic and started pulling her up. Flipping the dagger so that she was holding it upside down, she reached under her and slashed Yennefer's thigh. Yennefer screamed and cursed, and, more importantly, dropped her. With her unarmed hand, Tissaia grabbed a fallen tree branch, sat up and swung it into the back of Yennefer's knees. She fell on her back, cursing more profoundly than before and in a manner that would have made even the most hardened and seasoned sailors blush, and scrambled to her feet.

They got up at the same and stared at each other with their legs apart, their weight resting on the balls of their feet, and a dagger in their hand. Tissaia thought she saw Yennefer's lips twist into a snarl, but then her face was obscured by her arm as she swung her dagger wildly at Tissaia's head. She ducked it with ease and lunged forwards with her weapon raised. She tried to bring the hilt down on Yennefer's head, but she caught her by the wrist and used her forward momentum to spin her around and into a tree.

Tissaia hit her left temple against the bark and sharp pain exploded across her head. She stumbled backwards and Yennefer came up behind her, stopping her from falling over by putting her blade to the back of her neck and bending her left arm behind her back and pushing her front against the tree. The bark dug unto her left cheek and pressed against the new cut on her forehead, but it was nothing compared to the pain shooting up her arm from the way Yennefer was twisting it.

"Drop it," Yennefer said, referring to her dagger.

Tissaia clenched her jaw and gripped her weapon tighter.

"I said drop it!"

Yennefer leant most of her weight against Tissaia's bent arm and she cried out in pain. A few tears slipped from her eyes and she clawed the bark with her free hand. Yennefer waited for a few seconds and then started to increase the pressure until Tissaia was sure that her arm would break, but, just when she thought it would, Yennefer eased up. Swearing at her, Yennefer removed the blade from the back of her neck and stuck into the tree out of her reach. She wrestled Tissaia's weapon out of her hand, threw it away, and then pressed hers against Tissaia's side below the leather. There was silence, save for the sound of their short, sharp breaths.

"What are you waiting for?" Tissaia asked.

Yennefer's blade lightly brushed her waist through the fabric of her shirt. Her hand was shaking.

Tissaia swallowed. "Stop wasting my time, Yennefer," she said, her croaking voice surprisingly flat. "Kill me or let me go. While we might live for centuries that is no excuse for your indecision, a mage should always be decisive."

"You don't get to tell me what to do," Yennefer said. "I will kill you when I please."

"But why wait? Foolish girl, you could lose the upper hand."

Yennefer returned the dagger to the back of her neck and rested her chin on Tissaia's shoulder.

"Because," she said, "I want you to know what it feels like to watch someone you trust hold your life and their hands and then throw it away. I trusted you to help me, to get me Aedirn, and you let me down.

"No, it was your blood and ignorance that lost you that seat, not me. I fought for you-"

"Liar!"

Yennefer grabbed Tissaia by the back of her leather tunic and threw her onto the floor. She rolled across the ground a few times before scrambling to her hands and knees and getting knocked onto her back by a kick in her side. Winded and slightly dazed from her head injury, Tissaia did not have the time or the strength to move out of the way when she saw Yennefer pounce at her like a feral cat.

She barely managed to catch Yennefer's wrist with both hands as she plunged the dagger towards her. Yennefer wrapped her other hand around the hilt and leant her weight on it, overpowering Tissaia. The tip of the blade dug into the bottom of her throat below her Adam's apple and she could feel its kiss, cold and deadly, moving against her neck as she breathed.

"You don't care about me, you never have!" Yennefer said.

Tissaia looked Yennefer in the eye. "Would I have come if I didn't?" she said.

Yennefer's eyes widened and she opened and closed her mouth then shook her head and screamed deeply from the back of her throat.

"I hate you," she said.

"No, you don't."

"I do, and I'm going to kill you."

"No, you will not. You cannot," Tissaia said.

Yennefer's lips trembled. "I can! Look at what I've done to you. I- I can do it!"

A tear rolled down Yennefer's face. The rage and madness that had tortured her beautiful features were starting to slip away. The magic that held Yennefer captive had weakened and her sadness was pouring through its gaps. Tissaia relaxed her arms slightly and felt the blade pierce her skin. It should have gone a lot deeper, but she noticed that when the blade had started to fall, Yennefer had stopped pressing as hard. She was matching Tissaia. It wasn't a real struggle, because Yennefer couldn't bring herself to make the final blow.

"My wounds are all superficial," Tissaia said. "You could have broken my arm, stabbed me, but you did not. You have not given me any injuries that cannot be easily fixed." The tears were falling down Yennefer's face now and a few splashed against Tissaia's chest. She smiled. "It's okay, Yennefer. You've hurt me because I hurt you, and I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I let you slip away, that I ignored the distance I saw growing between us. I should have done more. I should have done better."

She let go of Yennefer's wrists and wiped the tears off her face. She caressed her cheeks and the dagger hung in the space between them, shaking in Yennefer's hand. After a few seconds, Yennefer seemed to realize that she was not being restrained and pushed the edge of the blade against Tissaia's throat ready to slit it open. She let out a strangled cry and dropped her head to her chest, breaking eye contact. The blade dug a little deeper.

"Look at me," Tissaia said. It took a few seconds, but Yennefer complied. Tissaia held her face and continued. "I know that you are in there, somewhere. Fight. Fight it, Yennefer, and come back to me. Please…"

Yennefer sobbed and Tissaia had to hold her head in place to stop her from looking away. She smiled while they stared at each other, gently rubbing her thumb across Yennefer's cheeks, and catching her tears, until, after an age, Yennefer's eye bulged. She blinked a few times, looked at Tissaia then at the knife, and gasped. Yennefer shot upright, jerked her hands away from Tissaia and dropped the knife. She looked horrified.

"What have I done?" she said.

Yennefer covered her mouth with her hands and looked down at her with concern, and looked even more worried when Tissaia laughed. She couldn't help herself; she was just so relieved to have her back. Instead of saying anything, she pulled Yennefer on top of her and wrapped her arms around her, holding her tight and close. She felt Yennefer trembling all over and heard her start to cry anew after she had buried her head in Tissaia's chest.

"I'm sorry," Yennefer sobbed. "Gods, I'm so, so sorry. I'm-"

"Be still, Yennefer," Tissaia said, stroking her hair. "Everything is okay, I'm okay. I have you back, and I'm never letting go."

* * *

Bad-Things-Happen-Bingo Prompt for Anonymous on Tumblr: Tissaia and Yennefer - "I know you're in there somewhere. Fight!", The Witcher Netflix.

For more information about this collection, what Bad-Things-Happens-Bingo is, and how to submit a prompt, check the title page.

If you have enjoyed this piece of work, please consider leaving a comment. It is always wonderful to hear from readers and comments provide me with the strength I need to keep on writing. (Pretty please? Help to reassure my insecure arse).


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